> The rescue mission on Penavol will begin "recruiting" at around 6. Due to the dangerous nature of the mission, Algorhymes will be deployed first- with parallel ODF marines participating just in case.

Log: Start

In Glass Houses [Ender and Lost]===================

His footsteps crunched under the insulated glass walkway. With every step, his boots gave a squeaking scrape that he felt in his bones. Ender was wearing the bare necessities, going against the regulations to wear combat armor in the Farm. Far below, the hissing roaches were going about their daily routine burrowing and "planting" food rations into the soil using the divvied up protoculture. It stank like ozone and manure, but nothing about it smelt of corpses. She saw him from meters out but didn't acknowledge his presence until he walked up to the glass doors and knocked—despite the fact that the stuff was soundproof.

Found had taken of as late to wear her civilian clothes. It was both thrilling and awkward. Thrilling as she didn't need the formal suit and skirt to set her apart from her sister, and awkward because of that very fact. Some people had wondered about her sudden change into non-regulation wear—though of course none of them would say anything. She was, after all, a commander, if only of the xeno army. If their brigadier general could wear a cowboy hat, why couldn't their xeno commander wear a turtleneck and blue jeans?

Found luxuriated on her couch, soft and springy in spite of being completely transparent, reading from a projected display in front of her. One long delicate hand propped up her face, its natural beauty brought out with only a little lipstick and rouge, her long blond hair out of the constrictive bun and instead in a long braid Domino had begged to pleat. Her brown leather pumps sat at the foot of the couch, her feet idly flexing through the black socks. She made as if to ignore the motion out of the corner of her eye before giving a wry smile and waving the airlock open.

As the airlock started to cycle, Ender's foot was already routinely through the opening as the rest of him came through like a portal monster of some sort. His stride was solid most other times but this time there was more to its step. A weight that he himself wouldn't have cared for otherwise. This time too, he also opted to stand up. Normally a bare corner in her room suffered a leaning into.

"Found--" He started, "She's alive. I confirmed it with Soap. She's being held somewhere in the Penavol system."

Found didn't answer at first, but instead help up a single finger as she finished the report.Ender looked on. He could muster a meaning but he gave her the benefit of a doubt and waited for a response, however slight. With a sigh she closed the projection with a dismissive wave of her hand and looked up at the demoman, her right eye a bright blue, her left a piercing red on a sea of black. Nowadays she was almost in constant communication with the xenos, at least when she was in the Pen, the informal name for her office.

"When Lost died and the fiasco with her flux happened, you know who came to see me about it? No one." She laughed coldly. "In a way I was insulted. The more powerful psionic twin, and no one thought to ask me for help. You did your little raids into the restricted files, your oversight boards, even managed to get one of you in an Inquisitorial psi-prison. But not one of you, not even the grieving sergeant, came to ask for my help."

Found turned around, her features bitter. "And a damn shame too, because I would have said no. She's just one sister now, one sister in a thousand. If you think there's some sort of conspiracy about Lost, tell people who need to know, instead of going behind their backs. Ender, I know suicide missions seem to be your specialty, but if there really is some big bad out there trying to make another me, do you really think you can handle it alone?"

"No, I can't. Not alone, not ever. We're in this together remember? A family: Human, Xeno—it doesn't matter. We all suffered the same, hell some of us died more times than we cared to count." Ender stopped himself. He wasn't about to speak for someone he was not. Instead he walked up to Found's desk his eyes restless and locked onto hers. "And no one else is asking. Because no one else is gonna dare to ask you for anything. I will because deep down I know you feel her suffering and the fact that you've been completely quiet about it is bugging me. It's not for anyone, and I sure as hell know it's not for your benefit. But it's for me. I need to know if you actually think hiding behind the circumstances will let you forget about her."

Found's eyes kept pace with his, a battle playing between their gazes. "I once told a man I thought I cared about an old pre-war saying: 'The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one’. Why should I balance her one life against others, or even my own?"

"You won't have to. Penavol has three planets and she's in one. I know that if I was hiding someone it would be there. And if there was anyone that could find her better than IQ it would be you. The ones who will take the risk are those who are willing..." He looked down at the bugs below, staring up at him. "'cluding myself "

Found stalked over and placed a hand on either of his shoulders. Ender kept that impassive look that only made her angrier. Pushing him back, he pivoted on the desk behind him, her momentum slamming him to the counter top, her arms pinning him there. Incredulity warred with anger on her face as she towered over the specialist, her burning red eye only an arm's length away.

"Ender, no more evading, no more hiding behind the big damn hero. Tell me why you care or I will come in there and pull. It. Out."

"I look at your face, and I see her lifeless eyes not coming back!" He spat, "And then I quite literally saw that this could happen to anyone. Even you, even me. Stolen away by some godless power that's toying with life and death. And I'd fight it, Found. I'd fight it with hundreds of myself if not thousands! I'd make sure someone who pulled that shit on me will feel HEAVEN after what I do to them! It doesn't make sense, tt NEVER made sense! And if you--" Found twisted harder. "If you had one chance to stop just ONE evil frakking thing they do to us, you would understand!"

Slowly, inexorably, she leaned in, Found’s face stopped mere inches above his, her eyes trapping his, intent as if probing into his very soul. There hadn't been a feeling of invasion in his mind, but a part of him felt laid bare. Whatever she saw, she leaned back and released his shoulders as if touching hot metal. Her towering figure receded as she stepped back from him, if only now aware of their proximity.

She gave a grunt. "Aren't you a shining knight, looking out for the flux of trained killers. Always so willing to throw your only life away for ideals you don't fully understand. This could be a test by the Inquisition, a trap by Sigma Force, but you say ‘damn it all’, just to save a life. Just to prove a point."

And then she nodded to herself. "'If you mess with one of us, you mess with all of us.' I can understand that. Especially in the ODF, especially in Bravo, where we all feel like insects under a glass, being poked and prodded to see how we work. Perhaps you're right..."

She looked at Ender, sadness filling her face, making her look like the young girl she was. "But what if it is a trap? What if the second I do this, I'm the one whose flux goes MIA? Or worse, what if I do find her? A part of me hates her, Ender."

Ender got up sort of shaken. Sort of dizzy. She saw it. She saw the phantom memories that he had buried like a corpse. The phantom phone booth, the house he's never lived in. "A part of me... wouldn't wish this on the worst parts of myself, Found." He righted himself. "And the worst parts of myself wouldn't let the same thing happen to you, either." He gave a blank stare. It was so clear what he meant. It was like an open window. It was the life he was never going to have. The actors were different but the play was the same and this time Found was the one suffering the part of the doublemint, the clone expatriate… the tragic offshoot.

But no longer: Ender lurched forward his steps feeling right for the first time as he approached Found with arms wide, his body vulnerable. Found stepped into his embrace, her body going joyously soft as she leaned against him. And as his arms closed around her, pulling her head to his shoulder, she whispered slyly in his ear: "Gotcha."

Suddenly, before he could think, before he could move, Ender was a blur. A terrible feeling of motion and sensation hit him as if a wall of electrified water had blindsided him. Sensation left him, feeling left him, sight left him. He struggled wildly, blindly, but the steely grasp that held him didn't flinch. He could feel a sense of motion, of massive distances, but it was disconnected from physical sensations. Again he squirmed, trying to free himself from the unseen hand, when it came to him: he wasn't in his body anymore.

I know you've been trying to get Nomad to update his dossier, so I took the liberty of filling it out for him. I'm pretty sure this information is 95% correct.

HLF Armed Forces Troop Dossier DD form 1173

Serial #FGT69-123456789Designation: NomadSex: Male (see attachment)>Not actually sure considering he's trying to date Trauma. I'll let you know once I figure out what SHE is.Classification: Legitimate (see attachment)>Legitimately gay.>How else do you explain him chasing Trauma?Homeworld: The Crack of Satan's AssOriginal: Some botton of the bargain-bin low life, no doubt.Belief System: Polyist (see attachment)>Likes to have [censored] with his other clones.Service/Status: ODF(Overweight Douche Fags)/ActiveRank/Pay Grade: Corporal/ We get PAID?Specialization: [K](unt)Current Assignment/Position: Bacon Squad/ Baconator (see attachment)>Next time try a salad, lard fat.Weight: FatHeight: Too tallHair color: I can't actually see it from down here.Eye color: Same as above.Chirality: No-handed (See attachment)>This ham-handed motherfucker can't use either of his hands well and resorts to just wearing huge robot fists to make up for it.>Also, chirality? I had to look this word up to know what it even means.Qualifications: He went to Huge People Anonymous once, that probably counts.Service History: Operation He Mad (See attachment)>nomadpenguinbomb.vid>I got all my blood punched out obtaining this video file, I expect to be compensated.

The presence that was holding him, that dragged him along in this unseen yet felt void, chuckled. There was no sound, nor even a mouth to make it, but Ender could feel that dry amusement anywhere: Found. The presence shifted slightly, lurching him... up? Right? He wasn't sure, movement had no context. He tried to form thoughts, pushing the panic down. Focusing, he spoke the words, even with no mouth or even air for such words to resonate in.

[What? Where?] Ender could hear his thoughts, separate from himself yet distinctly his in the speeding void.

[Took you longer then I thought it would, Ender. We're already light years from the O'Reilly.] The voice-that-was-not-a-voice sounded frighteningly playful.

Ender willed himself out of her grasp, but to no avail. A white ebb sparked and undulated in the borderless realm where definition and reality was but a thought. In these situations, training dictated that he focused a shape for himself, to establish a personal border something familiar, anything at all. And so, he became a duck. Now instead of passively drifting, winging his way to where Found was guiding him. The ethereal white fowl sailed along space, not at all pleased with his efforts at maintaining a field of exclusivity.

[The O’Reilly... and we're passing the Ragriez system already—just how fast IS this?]

[The Ragriez system? Is that what it's called?] The "voice" sounded almost gleefully amused. [I was never very good at astronomy. As for speed, it's all relative. I'm keeping it slow, because if I lose my grip on your flux, who knows where you will wind up? I can appreciate your newfound sense of freedom, but don't push it too far, I might have to trim your wings.]

A figure suddenly shimmered into existence below him, the white border rippling like waves beneath a speeding hydrofoil. A red serpent, its belly facing upwards, its lounging body in loose curves at odds with the sense of incredible speed. She--he knew it was Found--idly shifted her body, muscles flexing, the eyes looking amused as a sinuous tongue flicked out as if in a childish insult.

The speed started to ease up, a sense of strain only made apparent by the sudden lack of it. Ender looked around in the featureless void. [What's... wrong?]

[We're here... I'm just figuring out how close I want to get to her...] Darkness still filled the vision of Ender, filled only with the lounging red serpent and the white haze in the corners of his eyes.

[As close as... psionically... possible I guess. So we can figure out coordinates.] Ender peered without eyes into the blackness. [While you're at it, would you mind turning on the lights?]

Suddenly stars winked on, peppering the darkness around him in detail. He was drifting in space. One orb of light was closer—much closer—and Ender felt as if it should burn him with the light it was giving off, and yet he felt no different then before when it was just the void. As he grew used to the new perspective, he noticed that the stars were moving in a slow orbit. Then he realized it wasn't the stars that were moving, it was him, a slow hundreds of miles an hour instead of light-breaking pace set earlier. Below him he could see the source of his movement, a small glowing orb.

[I have confirmation she's alive, or at least that a part of her flux still exists. Unlike some people, I'm just a little cautious.] They started to descend downwards, the small spec becoming a sphere of white clouds and blue oceans with tracts of land. [This is the third planet from the sun, by the way.]

[Merilla,] Ender thought. [She's on Merilla...]

They sped, bodiless and intangible, through the atmosphere, the horizon suddenly exploding in all directions beneath them, green land dotted with fields of red and white. They drifted to the right as even the universe’s most basic force, gravity, failed to lock them into the planet’s rotation. They careened towards the planets surface and Ender was grasped with the irrational fear that they were going to skip off the surface like a smooth rock over water. Suddenly a city sprang up around them and they were flying through crumbling buildings creeping with vines and red flowers as they, a white duck and a red snake, hit the ground.

Well, they didn’t hit it exactly, they simply stopped moving. Ender released a breath-that-was-not-a-breath he didn’t remember holding and peered around. They were deep in the city and nature had taken little time to start reclaiming her city. In the short 50 years plants had started to devour the city, weaving through skyscrapers, blooming inside of cars, and intertwining in the sun-bleached husks of Medusa Flu victims. They stood in front of a massive church, steeple reaching like hands in prayer to the heavens.

[Is this it, is this where she’s being kept?] Ender couldn’t keep the eagerness from his voice.

[No, she’s below, in an underground structure.] The red snake coiled and tapped her tail against the ground in a universal sigh of impatience. [I can’t make out any real details beyond that, there’s a… dissidence, echoes. Something very wrong is down there. We have to go.]

[No yet!] Ender looked around. [We have to find more clues, what city this is, street corners, something!]

Found glared at him. [You don’t understand. We can’t move from this spot, just up towards my body or down towards hers. I’m not god, Ender. I’m stringing us between my body and the body of an almost perfect copy of me, Lost. We’re pulled taunt over hundreds of lightyears, and in pretty soon the strain is going to cause me brain damage. And when I do let go of you, your flux will be torn apart and scattered to the four corners of the universe.]

She looked away. [I’m sorry I brought you along, but if there was a trap, I wanted us both to risk it. I didn’t want… damnit! Just find something so we can get out of here!]

Ender frantically looked around, feeling instead of sensing the sound of massive steel cables shaking in the wind that must be the strain of Found’s mind. Then he saw what he was looking for, newsfeed box sitting a dozen feet up the road. He moved towards it, straining as the white resistance built up around him. Ender pushed with every ounce of his mind, ignoring the curses Found was yelling at him. He could just barely make out the front disposable datapad in the display, the words burnt into it from showing the same display for so long before power failed. The… The Cal… Caliv… Calviver Tim—

Ender recoiled, slamming and bouncing across the ground. He had to stop himself from quacking. [Calviver, I think that’s the name of the capital city of this planet. Now if we can--]

The world shook, up vibrated widely and Ender felt as if he was on the end of a widely lashing cable, tethered to a ring that was starting to come loose. Found’s voice sounded strained. [We have to go back, now. My nose just started bleeding, that’s a bad sign. We need to go back, fast. Ender, I need you to stop thinking.]

With the haste of understanding, Ender emptied his mind of all thoughts, not wanting to, but needing to. A cold certainty suddenly washed over him. No thoughts, only actions. He could feel, dimly as if it was happening to another person, the barrier—Found he realized—pull around him, squeezing him into a small hard ball. Then suddenly a feeling of whiplash, of being sling-shotted an unfathomable distance at an unfathomable speed. Feelings were squashed down to a single line of yes and no responses, as if being pulled through a black hole.

And the he was in his body once more, the sensation of heat and air and his rump sore from where he was leaning against the desk flooded back in. He felt like he should he staggering, reeling, but his training kept him solid. Across from him Found was sitting on the couch, a handkerchief dotted with red pressed against her face. She looked up at him and her eyes smiled, her mouth obscured by the cloth.

“Don't worry, I left an eight of my mind back in the Pen. It made sure our chips didn’t start freaking out, and that we even looked to having a rather boring conversation.” She sniffed. “I really hate nosebleeds, Specialist. This had better have been worth it.”

Ender stood up, and approached her with the same slow, fragile, but open gate he had used before. “Found, you did it! I… I don’t know how to tha--”

“Just don’t tell her I helped,” Found cut in. “It’s really better for the both of us.”

“Stop,” She said. And Ender stopped. “I can see that look in your bedrooms eyes.” Her eyes softened. “I like you too Ender, you’re a much needed… conduit for my emotions. But… but I can’t. There’s something between us Ender, some deep secret you’re keeping from me. After last time… I can’t go through this all again. I won’t reach in there and grab it, it’s something you have to do, something you have to commit to.”

Her eyes pled with him to understand. “Until then… until then we’re just the duck and the snake.”

Loki finished eating a sandwich provided by one of her handlers. She had asked to be taught basic etiquette and they decided to humor her. The classes had gone on for about a week, and she found them immensely enjoyable. Here she could learn bits of interaction not commonly scene, and integrate them into her mannerisms.

S is the Model typethe first numberic after the Model type is their model number, the 01 numeric after the dash is their first bound weapon. In this case it's a Gauss gun, a Lightweight gun. Following this line of logic, a secondary hyphenated 01 can be equipped to an S model.

Weapon Capacities.S models can carry:2 Light weapons max.1 Med weapon maxand 1 Hvy weapon max, and suffers a Move or Shoot penalty during turns- but can still use the same amount of actions to fire or operate said weapon.

Here is a brief summary of data gathered about the inner workings of the military contractor BlackRock, with special regards to their work in the Penavol Quarantine System.

BlackRock specializes in guarding quarantined areas, be they city, country, planet, or system, though Penavol is their largest current perimeter. Their strength of being almost being unhackable is also their weakness. While like in the Penavol system they employ passive psicomm radar, they can only receive data, not transmit it, and all data pulled from this radar is disconnected from their own servers. Communication site to site is done not with psicomm, but with quantum entangled molecules linked in pairs, trading slow transmission speed for the inability to intercept. All their technology, automated or otherwise, relies on automation and simplicity because they shirk the psicomm net.

Beside the ubiquitous “kill-sats”, in the Penavol system BlackRock deploys transmission buoys, kinetic strike frigates, and gunboats. The first transmit prerecorded messages to all who enter the system. The second two are the response to those who do not heed the first. While the kill-sats will make short work of small craft entering the system, larger craft might seek to hold orbit outside the range as a staging ground. The kinetic strike frigate (KSF) is a response to that, literally giant metal bullets guided by huge light-speed engines, designed to ram into large ships, utterly destroying both in the process. The gunboats are significantly slower but well armed and armored for their size, designed for search and rescue as well as checking out unknown readings from psicomm. Both are staffed with a small group of human technicians, along with autonomous robots disconnected from any sort of network. Obviously KSF pilots have their memories backed up before they leave the base.

Yearly BlackRock answers to two committees about the Penavol System. The Quarantine Overwatch Committee, composed of members of the government, scientists, and the military, and the local ruling Aspect’s council. In both cases they review any incidents, sightings, and readings in the system, accessing if the quarantine should be lifted. In any case of a breach or an attempted breech, BlackRock immediately sends out its forces to intercept, while also notifying these two committees, who in turn prep responses, both militarily and politically.

> If you want information on how to break into a quarantined planet, you’re gonna need to spend a lot more money. Some of your sources say they could do it, but they would have to grease quite a few palms as well as make it worth their while. They can tell you a way to circumvent the kill-sats, Gorgons, or KSF, but only one. And it will cost 18 support points.

>Funds received.>And your sources come through.>Now with more active sensor range on the kill-sats, sorry about the poor range before!

Each kill-sat is its own self-contained array. It can’t receive signals of any kind, nor can it tell the difference between friend and foe. This begs the question: how does BlackRock remove them once the quarantine has been lifted? The answer is a closely guarded secret: they are on astrological timers. When the stars, sun, and planets all align to a certain date, sections of the kill-sats stop firing, allowing technicians to quickly move in and disable them before their 3 hour “rest” state expires.

While the date your sources found isn’t anywhere near, they did provide you with the visual array of what the sky will look like to the kill-sats sensors on that date. If one projected this as a hologram field in front of a kill-sat, far enough away to stay out of their active sensors (about 750 miles) you could fool a section of the kill-sats to deactivate for a 3 hour window.

A hologram of this staggering size could be created by, say, a Fear Command hooked up to a cruiser’s power plant.

This mission is on a strict time line, so while we are waiting for coordinates we should explore our options for the Algo's. Our current plan requires us to our fit an M unit with a transcriptor but we still need to organize the rest of the deployment.

Walker watched through the vidwindow as the Cruiser activated the Makarian Warp drive and made the jump.

If successful, theoretically, relativistic time travel would mean they would return within a day, as the Makarian Warp drive would allow them to travel back in time as they moved forward in space.

Or at least, that was how HE understood it when the technician explained it to him. While he certainly didn't consider himself to be uneducated, Walker had to admit that half the terms the technician used went over his head.

"Good luck, Captain" the newly appointed Brigadier General whispered to the empty room.

After staring at the false window for several minutes, Walker turned and left his office. He needed to get out and move; perhaps a visit to the High Inquisitor would be in order? Or maybe a visit to Found in the Pen?

"Hmmm... decisions, decisions," he mumbled as he stepped into the lift.

It was in the look that troopers gave each other as they adjusted gear. It was in the tension-filled strides of the technicians performing the obligatory last-second modifications. All of Bravo—hell most of the HLF—knew this wasn’t just the test of the Makarian drive. No, it was a search and rescue of one of their own. The mission specifics changed from one person to another, and in a few cases they were even right. But this made making sure the drive worked all the more important, and so everyone was giving their job one more once-over.

The Scion of Sleipnir had been awkwardly docked to the side of the Lucky O’Reilly, the cruiser looking like some sort of growth on the side of the mothership. A positive pressure field had been erected over the cruiser, allow the technicians more freedom of movement as they linked the giant Makarian drive onto the ship. It was a patchwork affair, science teams had only begun being able to reverse engineer the major systems. Most of it was jury-rigging, theories, and judicious use of duct tape. All the eggheads tenuously agreed: it would most likely work, at least for the jump to the edge of the solar system and back. Tensions were a lot higher for those who knew the real mission.

And so they worked and tried to keep their eyes off the large sleek maroon colored drive, arcing in a double-winged crescent above the grey utilitarian hull of the ODF cruiser. Inside the brave test subjects were going to be submitted to two tests that were equally lethal: the jump itself, which played with the forces of time and space so much that they had made their Makarian users insane, the second to brave through Penavol’s deadly quarantine zone, through the horrors on the surface, and into the lair of someone very powerful and very well supported and get back one of their own.

Tiny figures scrambled into hatches on the O’Reilly and the Scion as a sudden rush of air into space announced the positive pressure field collapsing. Hoses and cables blew free from moorings and spasmed in the vacuum as the two ships began uncoupling procedures. Bright points of blue light flared as the Scion powered up maneuvering thrusters and inelegantly lifted off of the hull of the larger ship. It hung in space, a hodgepodge of Makarian insanity and human adaptability, holding the hopes not of just humanity’s hope for the stars, but Bravo’s hope for a missing comrade.

Two missions, with slim chances, and almost universally each and every member of Bravo had volunteered. The elite members of forces like Femto and Ecto had volunteered as well. The HLF, keeping under the table from their Inquisitorial overseers, had given this mission the thumbs up. It wasn’t about fighting the good fight. It wasn’t about killing those who messed with one of their own. It was about leaving no man behind. In spite of the odds, the red-tap, the unsanctioned mission, they were going to save Cpl. Lost or die trying. No one could imprison one of their own. And so their hopes rested on those inside the Scion of Sleipnir, be they human, robot, or alien.

As the drive powered up, fantastical lights shimmering over the maroon curves of slick alien design, Bravo’s prayers followed them. “Bring her home,” their eyes seemed to cry. “Bring our soldier back to us.”

The Algorhymes were busy constructing the sychro-rig. It was a machine that mission's success depended on. Soap signed he envied their silent bravado, though they were capable of emotions they gave no semblance of feat for the current situation.

"Aberham, I have to confess the Irony of this situation."

"I joined the military to escape from becoming a criminal and yet it seems that lately all i have done is commit myself breaking the law."

The Algo's began to hook up Soap to the ships drive. The plan required him to project his Haunt field on a immense scale. If he failed the killsats would obliterate before they even got close to their target.

You have entered the Penavol Quarantine Zone. If you are hearing this message, you have already been warned to turn back and have failed to heed the order. You are now considered trespassing on a restricted zone by order of the QOC, IQ, and ODF and lethal action will be taken against you.

Ships have been dispatched and will arrive in THREE HUNDRED AND THIRTY minutes. Power down all systems but life support. Halt any and all traffic to the surface. If you refuse to comply, or have brought anything from the quarantined planets, including any and all transcription, you will be fired upon and your vessels destroyed.

This is a BlackRock automated message from Transmission Buoy #950-b and will repeat shortly.

Seeing that he managed to destroy the pathetic meatbags, it's time to move, else he'll be artillery magnet."Your physical body may still prove its worth, fallen brother! AND THEN I'M GONNA GONKING AVENGE THE MOTHERGONKER WHO DESTROYED YOU!"

>Moving gate over the three troops near me, harvesting>Reinforcing my core and gate with all my sparks, divide what I have among both equally>move over the infantry to the north of me so they are all in the gate>harvest again(>if I can't reinforce myself with my own sparks, move west and distribute all my sparks to allied units evenly.)*CONSUME*